


I'll leave this while I can

by orphan_account



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-27
Updated: 2010-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 05:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He falls in love with him in bits and pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll leave this while I can

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from The Editor's "Distance"

The first time they sleep together is after the first job they ever do, because people can say whatever they want to about Arthur's repression, he knows what he wants, and then he takes it. He wanted Eames from the first second he saw him, and then he should have wanted him less, probably, when he found out he was an arrogant jerk with a mouth on him, but he didn't. He kept wanting him, and Eames' lust was so obvious, too obvious for a con man.

They sleep together, or, really, they fuck, and it's messy and dirty and perfect, Eames' mouth hot on his, then murmuring filthy things into his ear, and Arthur comes with his eyes wide open, staring at the span of Eames' shoulders.

After, Eames leaves, and that's the way it's supposed to be.

*

They keep fucking, and that's fine, because even if Eames is a dick, Arthur doesn't want him any less, and it's hard to find something for more than a night when you may have to pack up and leave a country with ten minutes notice. Whenever they end up in the same city, they inevitably fall into bed together, and it's the closest thing to a relationship Arthur has had in years, which is pathetic, but he can deal with that. It's easy to push away the rest of the time, to ignore until Eames is back, mouth turned up in a smirk, and then Arthur will do anything he says.

*

He falls in love with him in bits and pieces.

At first it's the line of his shoulders, the broad scope of them, entirely physical and easy to dismiss. But then it's the way he laughs, the rough bark of it, and the way he gives Arthur an indulgent smile when Arthur goes off at him for an atrocity of a shirt, or the way he takes his coffee with too much sugar.

The point is, Arthur falls in love with him, and if he was a melodramatic teenage girl, he'd say it was the worst thing that ever happened to him. As it is, it doesn't even rank close to the top, but it still rankles every time Eames goes without warning and it hits him hard in the chest, like a blow.

He almost says it once, defences down, languid and content, but there's this look on Eames' face, like he knows what's coming, and if Arthur says it, he'll be out the door in minutes.

He bites his tongue.

*

He does say it once, really, to the shape of Eames' body in a dream, in a job that ended with him shot through by a mark that wasn't buying his forgery. Arthur smoothes his eyes shut, and he says it, quiet, and Eames lies there so still and so calm that Arthur barely recognizes him at all.

*

Things keep happening like they always have, with Arthur tracking Eames' progress around the world as he bounces from place to place, with what must be some kind of masochism, and every time Eames shows up at his apartment, grin wide and unapologetic, Arthur opens the door, invites him inside.

Nothing gets worse, and nothing gets better, it's just all the same, and it's good, Arthur can't complain about it, really, because every time Eames is there, Arthur gets his full attention, every bit of mockery and joy and lust, and that should be enough, it really should be, so it is. Arthur makes sure that it is.

*

He gets over him in bits and pieces.

It takes awhile, hell, it takes years, years of him and Eames meeting when it works, when they both are in the same place, on the same job. Eames doesn't go out of his way to see him, and Arthur tries to be the same, and slowly, slowly it starts to mean nothing.

In the end, he looks at Eames, and he has no idea what he saw in him at all. The moments he remembers come in flashes, with a certain turn of Eames' lips, a certain comment that reminds Arthur how brilliant he is under the carefully crafted slouch, but they come few and far between.

It's a relief. It's such a fucking relief.

*

It changes with him gut shot, but for real this time, and they can't go to the hospital so Yusuf takes the bullet out, stitches him up, while Arthur stares at the ceiling and hopes, dimly, that he isn't going to die.

He's in a tidy little room, he doesn't know where, doesn't remember getting there, and he's feverish for days, kicking off the sheets and barely realising anyone's in the room with him, let alone figuring out who it is each time.

Eames is sitting with him when he comes back to something that feels like sanity, painkillers making him feel fuzzy, but he's able to break through them into something a little more normal. Eames is holding his hand.

"I've been a blithering idiot," Eames says, and everything's written on his face for once, twisted and grown almost beautiful with hope. Almost ugly.

"Yes," Arthur says. "You have." That's not really up for debate.

"I don't suppose you give points for figuring it out after the fact," Eames says, and there's all that goddamn _hope_.

"No," Arthur says, and the words stick in his throat. "I don't think I do."

"Okay," Eames says, ducks his head, but he doesn't let go of his hand, just squeezes, gentle, and Arthur stares helplessly at his hair. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Me too," Arthur says, because it's true, and keeps holding, Eames' hand warm in his until he falls asleep.


End file.
